War of Angels I: A Prelude to Interesting Times
by The Aberrant One
Summary: What if Syndrome and Project Kronos were just the tip of the iceberg and part of something much bigger? Meet the Aeon Foundation...they're going to save the world, after they wreck it first. Rewrite/Edited/Reposted.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "The Incredibles" owned by Pixar. "Aberrant" owned by White Wolf/Onyx Publishing.

Author's Notes:

Yes, before some of you ask. This is a major editing/rewrite of the original "Aeon: Prelude Interesting Times". Long story short: I've wanted a chance to go back and edit/clean up various typos and errors since I last wrote this a few years ago. Since then, this little fic-verse has kind of exploded into multiple fics instead of the original two I had planned. After looking at everything (and listening to some feedback), I decided to look at what I've written, edit/clean-up any mistakes or errors I missed last time (and...oh hell, there were a lot of little things here and there). I also decided, to cut down on confusion, to put this all into one series. This first story (a prequel) is now considered the first story in my "War of Angels" setting. Also, I realize that FFN has a White Wolf section, but Aberrant is not listed in the worlds that are covered by the White Wolf fandom, which is why this fic is going to placed the main Incredibles folder.

Again, for those of you who are new to this twisted 'verse, I will warn you, I did move up the Incredibles timeline a little bit. The events in the movie (on up to the battle with Syndrome) take place in 1998 (the battle in Metroville being on March 1st). This story takes place the day after Syndrome's defeat. For you old school White Wolf Aberrant fans, I hope you don't take offense at some of the tweaking I've done when merging these two 'verses together (which, oddly enough, didn't take much effort). And, again, to any new readers who might stumble onto this...welcome to a crazy and twisted little world. This is loosely based off an old Aberrant RPG campaign a friend of mind, basically setting the Incredibles in the Aberrant 'verse. It wasa cool game, but only lasted a few sessions...but it gave me a lot of fic ideas.

Oh, and a couple warnings. First off, there are a lot of OCs as well as main canon characters; if that's not your thing, you may want to take off...just warning you. And second, just to warn those of you who seem to think Buddy Pine is a "fluffy" and "redeemable" character that is misunderstood that has to be paired off with a certain female member of the Parr family...you will definitely not want to read ANY of these stories. Buddy Pine was a VILLAIN, a psychotic and evil bastard, end of discussion. However, Buddy's not in this fic, just some of his projects. He does show up in the second story, however, and will be a recurring villain through the series.

* * *

 **Aeon Building**

 **Chicago, Illinois**

 **March 2nd, 1998**

 **1800 hrs.**

To most people, the Aeon Society Building represented the headquarters for a world-wide private philanthropic organization dedicated to humanitarian causes and, officially, that was true. The Aeon Foundation was a philanthropic organization dedicated to humanitarian causes around the world and had received many awards and commendations from the United Nations, the Red Cross, and even a few world governments.

To some people, who were a little older and still remembered, the Aeon Society was originally an organization of talented men and women with extraordinary abilities. Their adventures were the stuff of legends and chronicled in newspapers, magazines, and radio. They signaled the beginning of a new age after first appearing in the 1920s. During the 1930s the Society even helped out during the Great Depression, endearing them even more to the people in the United States and throughout the rest of the world. Other heroes, unaffiliated with the Society, began to surface as well and it seemed that the world was about to enter a new golden age.

Then the Second World War happened and everything changed. Many of the heroes fought in the war and many of them died. The Aeon Society, like the unaffiliated heroes, had also got involved. Having expanded and established small "chapters" around the world since their founding and being more organized than most of the independent heroes, they were able to combat the Nazi war machine much more effectively, which made them a major target. In 1943, multiple chapter houses were hit by Nazi strike teams around the world, most of the personnel killed and high ranking members taken for interrogation before being executed or subjected to a worse fate. It was the 21st of December in 1943 when the Aeon Society achieved its victory over its German counterpart known simply as "The Order" and it was where it suffered a crippling blow that shattered the Society and revealed a traitor in their midst and forced two key members to leave while another simply vanished.

After World War II, the Aeon Society seemed to fade away into the background. The adventurous heroes who represented it during its "glory days" were dead, crippled, or had decided to retire. Other heroes, independent and unaffiliated ones, took their place over the next few decades. It wasn't the golden age that Aeon had predicted, but it was an age of wonder and heroes nonetheless. Most of the remaining Aeon chapter houses that had managed to survive the attacks from the war were closed, their members transferring or retiring from the Society. By the mid-1950s, the only Aeon facilities remaining were the three major buildings in Chicago, New York, and London with four smaller facilities located in Athens, New Delhi, Tokyo, and Sydney. The newly renamed Aeon Foundation had become more of a private philanthropic organization and research group focusing primarily on medical advancements. The adventurous "heroes" of yesteryear in that organization were gone, replaced by faceless suits and lab workers who only came out to donate to charitable causes or provide relief during times of natural disasters.

At least, that's how it appeared to the general public. What the public hadn't known is that the Aeon Society had nearly fallen apart. After the incident in December of 1943, the group found itself divided. Doctor Primoris, one of their founders angrily walked out on them, declaring them to be a major part of what was wrong with the world and that he had no interest in contributing to it. Max Mercer, the main founder and chairman of the Society had mysteriously disappeared shortly after the December incident. There were some in the Society who believed that, had Mercer stayed, Primoris would have returned to the fold.

Another key member was a young Sergeant from United States Marine Corps who had joined the Society at the beginning of the war. Because he was an "outsider" who had been attached to the Society by the US government, he wasn't well liked by the other members of the group, particularly Doctor Primoris. However Richard Dicker proved to be a valuable member of the group and he managed to earn their trust and respect throughout the war…until December of 1943 where they discovered that he had been turning over some of Aeon's notes and research to The Order.

Or so they were led to believe.

Evidence had surfaced at the beginning of December that he was the one who had given the Germans some of their research notes and the locations of various chapter houses. The rest of the month consisted of them trying to track him down as he ran for his life. However, Richard Dicker wasn't running because he was guilty of the crime. He was running because he knew someone in the Society had set him up and if he got caught, whoever betrayed him would have him killed before he could clear his name.

The end of this crisis came crashing down when Dicker was tracked down in Paris by Doctor Primoris and Annabelle Lee Newfield aka "Crackshot". After taking a sniper around in the leg and being beaten partially to a pulp by Doctor Primoris, Dicker finally admitted what he had discovered: Newfield was the one who set him up, she was the traitor.

Aside from Primoris and Dicker, no one else in the Society knew what exactly happened that night, but it ended with Newfield being killed and Primoris kicking the doors of the London chapter house open where he left Dicker to receive medical attention. He then stormed out of the building and into the foggy London Night. Max Mercer shortly vanished after that night, it was witnessed that he was in a troubled state of mind, saying, "This is not what was supposed to happen, something changed."

Though he was cleared of the charges against him, Dicker, upon recovering from most of his injuries, told the remaining members of the Aeon council they could go fuck themselves and hobbled out on a pair of crutches.

The Aeon Society was in danger of collapsing and would have if a young French-Canadian member and former soldier named Phillip Lavielle hadn't stepped up and assumed control of the group. Deciding that Aeon needed to "adapt to this new age", he streamlined the organization in an attempt to reunify it. He ordered most of the chapter houses closed down, their personnel transferred or discharged with appropriate compensation. He then reorganized the Society into what he described to the media as a "philanthropic think tank and research organization" and renamed it the Aeon Foundation.

Over the next few decades, Aeon conducted their own scientific and medical research based on data gathered from promising recruits they brought into the fold or from data gathered from the Hammersmith notes and the archives they had managed to acquire from The Order. They had made many advances over those years and quietly allowed some of those advances to be made available to the rest of the world. However, Phillip knew that despite what Aeon claimed to believe in, he knew the dark truth. This wasn't a Golden Age, and it never would be unless direct action was taken.

As he made his way down the main hallway of the top floor of the building, Phillip couldn't help thinking about the irony of it all. In many ways, the Aeon Society had become like The Order and that did bother him to the point to he would occasionally have a sleepless night thinking about it.

 _Yes, we are doing some of the things they did, but not all. Unlike them, we've seen the future; we know what's going to happen. We have to make sure it doesn't._

The future; those were two words that haunted him as well. He had really come to rue the day when the society first discovered what had been called "the Oracle artifact" in 1938. Unearthed in some underground ruins in Greece, it was a small metallic sphere that, according to experts, had been buried for nearly three thousand years. But what stunned people were the markings on it, particularly a large one that looked frighteningly similar to the Aeon Society's logo.

It was Doctor Primoris who had initially discovered what it truly was and even managed to make it work. It was a data-storage device and console…a very advanced computer. The technology of the Oracle made the current technology of 1998 look like antiques of the past. So when it was activated in 1939 by Doctor Primoris, even the stoic Doctor was taken by surprise of the phantom holographic images that erupted from the object. They had learned much from the sphere, even learning of the oncoming war with Germany.

Phillip remembered that night very well, when Max Mercer himself had called the entire Aeon Council to a meeting, the twenty seven heads of all the chapter houses and the chairman all in the same room. There was a decision to be made; should they intervene and head off the war that was to come? Of course, they were going on the information they were able to pull from the Oracle and it was incomplete, but a good portion of the council voted in favor of intervening, but it was not enough. A majority of the council felt that preventing this war could possibly lead to something even uglier. In fact, Mercer was convinced of it, as was Primoris. When it became apparent on what decision those two were choosing, a majority of votes went in their direction.

The Oracle artifact was locked up and archived by Primoris, but Phillip always suspected the man knew more than what he was telling and that maybe he saw something that he did not reveal to the others. Then the war happened, all hell broke loose, and when it was all said and done, Phillip was left in charge of a broken organization with most of its founders dead or missing. One of the first acts he ordered as overall Director of Aeon was order the Oracle artifact out of storage. In the five decades since then, they had learned many things from the Oracle and the various information that was gathered was given to whatever department specialized in that. One of the medical advances discovered from the artifact helped retard aging, which allowed Phillip and various other members of Aeon to live a more active life. Granted, he still appeared to be a physically fit man in his early sixties, but that was impressive since he had just celebrated his ninetieth birthday.

Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to crack some of the built in firewalls that prevented them from accessing about ninety-five percent of the artifact's data. Aeon continued to hire the best and brightest minds they could find and slowly began to make progress. All that changed, however, in 1990 when a twenty year old mega-genius named Buddy Pine made a breakthrough and managed to bypass the various built-in firewalls in the Oracle's database. Within an hour, they had downloaded all sorts of data; medical, technological, and historical. But before it could be entirely decrypted, a young woman suddenly appeared in the lab in a flash of light and took the device. Before she could disappear, she said three words that were picked up by the security cameras before she vanished.

"Not this time."

Not this time; three more words that also haunted Phillip. He shook his head to get rid of the memory and bring himself back to the present. He stopped in front of the large oak doors of the Aeon Boardroom. He was certain the others were there; waiting to hear what he had to say regarding the latest crisis that threatened their plans.

Standing off to the side of the doors, waiting patiently, was a young blond haired woman in her early twenties with ice-blue eyes. She nodded and smiled at him before stepping forward and giving him a hug. "Hello, Uncle," she said.

"Phillipa," Phillip replied, unable to keep the surprise of seeing his "niece" here. He returned the hug and gave her a kindly smile of his own. "What brings you here?" he asked. "I thought you were still in London, continuing your studies."

"Taking a small break," Phillipa replied as she pulled away from him. "It is good to see you again, Uncle Phil," she said, then her smile faded a little. "We heard the news over at the London house…is it true?"

"I'm afraid it is, child," Phillip. "Pine's actions might have breached our carefully crafted cover."

"How bad is the damage?"

"That is what we are here to assess."

The young woman paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Why weren't the safety protocols engaged at the facility?"

"For all I know, they were, but apparently they were disengaged."

Phillipa frowned at that response. "How is that possible? Even a deranged nutjob like Pine wouldn't leave his base of operations unattended like that."

"He did have several security measures set up, but someone…or something…had bypassed them."

Phillipa arched an eyebrow. "Something?" she repeated, the hint of smirk on her face. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Phillip smiled grimly at her as he reached for the doors. "There are a lot of things," he said to her, pulling open the doors to the boardroom. "And this is where we confront them."

The meeting started off smoothly enough, but Phillip harbored no illusions about the can of worms that opened over the weekend. After all, the news footage from what the media had dubbed "The Syndrome Incident" from the day before was still fresh in the public mind and as he played a montage of footage on the video screen, he could hear gasps and some obscenities muttered by various council members. Like Phillip, they didn't like the turn of events. As the images on the screen dissolved to the AEON logo, Phillip stood up from his position at the table to address the other members of the council.

"So, as you can see, the heroes have returned," he said. "Not like we intended, but they are here nonetheless. So the next question is what do we do now?"

Phillip looked up and down the table at the various council members, mentally starting a countdown.

 _10…9…8…_

"Entrusting Pine with Phase One was a bad idea," said Nigel Braddock, representative for Aeon's London chapter. Phillip inwardly sighed, not surprised at Braddock's criticism. He was one of Pine's few critics, claiming the young man was too ambitious and too unstable. Phillip, along with others of the council, assumed it was just jealousy and anger on Braddock's part. But now...now he was wondering if Braddock saw something everyone else missed. "I knew he was trouble, even with a handler to keep him in line. The boy was too rabid a dog."

There were murmurs of agreement from other members of the council, though a good number were silent.

 _Wow, only three seconds before criticism and blame got thrown around. Phillip managed to hide the smile that threatened to form on his lips. That has to be a record._

"Be that as it may," said one middle-aged woman, "he did accomplish most of Kronos' goals."

"Perhaps, Thetis," conceded Kaleb Xerek, "but was it really necessary? One hundred and fourteen supers killed, including one of our own. This could have been avoided if we had let Miller in on Phoenix."

"And do you really think he would have gone along with Project Phoenix?" Thetis asked. "That he would willingly let his own kind be slaughtered."

"Perhaps not, but he deserved a chance to choose, especially if he knew what was coming." Xerek leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "I still can't believe that we've even gone this far."

"Don't develop a conscience now, Xerek," said another member, a man in his early thirties. "You didn't seem to care about the other one hundred thirteen."

"Shut it, Lansing," Xerek snapped. "Miller was one of us, and I'm sure he would have sided with us."

"He was a risk."

"He was my best friend."

"And you actually think that would have mattered to him? Your friendship versus the eradication of a good portion of his community; trust me, he wouldn't have the guts to go along with Phoenix."

"That's enough," Phillip said, putting enough force in his voice let everyone know that the blame game session of the meeting was over. "You can argue and fight on your own time, but it's time to look at the bigger picture. Has Phoenix been compromised and how does this change the overall plan?"

A few seconds of silence followed as all the members pondered the question. It was Braddock who cleared his throat and spoke first. "According to one of my operatives in the NSA, it doesn't seem likely. Yes, they may have procured most of his assets and toys, but the Aeon hub was clean."

Again, silence filled the room and Phillip could sense the tension. He wasn't sure he liked how that sounded.

"Clean?" he asked. "It was wiped already?"

This time, Braddock hesitated before he answered. "It looks that way, but according to our agent…we think it might have been uploaded to an independent local server."

What? How is that possible?

Phillip felt his strength momentarily drain out of his legs and leaned forward, putting his arms on the table for support. That revelation almost floored him. To upload the data available would mean that Pine had to have some sort of link established to another server…one that Aeon was not aware of.

 _But if anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Pine. Dammit, Braddock was right._

"Okay," he finally said. "The database was transferred to an 'independent server'. Do we have it?"

"No," replied Braddock as he began tapping on the small data pad in front of him, "because I think it walked out before we could claim it. This was footage our agent managed to get for us from the security cameras in the facility."

As the Englishman spoke, the vid-screen flashed to life to show high definition footage of some sort of lab containing a cylindrical chamber that looked like it had been broken from within, surrounded by nutrient fluid and several broken cables and wires dangling from the inside. The camera panned further out and the sound of someone coughing could be heard as it began to focus on a small figure on their hands and knees, convulsing as he coughed out a blue gel-like fluid, severed ends of the cables and wires from the tank were still protruding from his back.

"Oh…my…god," Phillip heard someone say, though he wasn't entirely sure if it wasn't himself because he was certainly thinking it.

Then the camera zoomed in on the boy. He appeared to be about ten years old and had red hair. He coughed/vomited a couple more seconds, spewing out the last of the sickly blue gel before taking a couple gasps of air. The camera framed around his upper body as he brought himself up to his knees. He then brought one hand up and clenched it in front of his face to make a fist.

"It's real," the boy said, looking around the lab in an almost dream like state. Then he turned and looked directly at the camera, a haunted look in his eyes as he raised his arm and pointed at the camera. "I can see you."

Then the screen flickered for a moment, pausing in a field of snow before suddenly replaying the footage in a loop.

"I can see you."

Flicker.

"I can see you."

Flicker.

"I can see you."

Flicker.

"I can see you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : Aberrant, owned by Onyx/White Wolf. Incredibles, owned by Pixar. "Major Tom" originally written by Peter Schilling.

Author's Notes: Second Chapter.

* * *

 **Lincoln Memorial**

 _ **Washington D.C.**_

 _ **March 9th, 1998**_

 _ **2100 hrs**_

Phillip Lavielle stood in front of the Lincoln Memorial and looked up at the enormous statue of Lincoln. He thought it interesting how a lot of Americans considered the statue and the memorial to be sacred ground, perhaps even more than the rest of the structures in the area, but he never understood it. He figured he didn't see the appeal because he himself was not an American citizen, but then he never felt any attachments to "sacred" areas back home in Canada either.

 _I think I gave up loyalties to any country after joining Aeon._

He knew that some would consider his thoughts treasonous, but it was the truth. Having fought through two world wars and working with the Aeon Society, Phillip, along with most of the Society's members, realized that the world was on the brink of self-inflicted annihilation. Thanks to information they were able to retrieve from the Oracle Artifact, they knew how ugly the future could get, and he wasn't about to let that future happen.

And yet, for all the events they had managed to change, manipulate, or just outright avoid, Phillip occasionally wondered if he was only delaying the inevitable. That was when he and four other members of Aeon's inner circle of leaders came up with Project Phoenix. When it was first proposed back in 1980, it was merely an exercise, a "what-if" scenario based off what limited data they could pull from the artifact. Even though they were at least a decade ahead of the world in technology, they hadn't even begun to extract a tenth of the data contained within the artifact. However, after what they learned about the future, it was decided that that Phoenix should be more than just an exercise.

Phillip remembered the heated debate that broke out among the council when the final draft of the Phoenix Protocol was presented before the council two years later. There were the usual arguments of the morality of it and questions about whether they had the right to "play God" with the rest of the world, but the plan did receive a narrow majority of the vote from the council.

Phase one of Project Phoenix was activated in 1982. By engineering a chain of events, Aeon managed to neutralize a majority of the world's super-powered beings by using subtle ways to turn people and various world governments against them. To avoid lawsuits and scrutiny of the public eye, many so called "superheroes" were forced into retirement and to adapt to being "normal". Others went to work for various government agencies, taking a low profile and only acting covertly. The first part of Project Phoenix; identifying, neutralizing, and isolating those that opposed it was a success. Of course, there were also some of those in the super-powered community who styled themselves as "villains" who didn't go quietly, but they were dealt with thanks to Aeon's covert "sweeper" teams. After the brutal murder of a few of the major villains by "persons unknown", everyone got the message, especially when they learned that it wasn't just them, but their families as well.

In 1993, Buddy Pine was given control of Phase One of Project Phoenix. Phase One, now referred to as Project Kronos, had expanded in the area of developing the technology to contain and possibly eliminate those who might oppose Phoenix; and that was the first major mistake Aeon had made regarding Project Phoenix…putting a psychopath in charge of Kronos. To be fair, Buddy Pine didn't come off as being psychotic. Yes, he showed drive and ambition, but that was to be expected from younger members of Aeon wanting to prove themselves and Buddy Pine was no exception. He also developed some advanced technology for Aeon and that was before he was given access to the Orcacle artifact. It was decided that Pine would be given his own private facility to conduct Aeon research and they had turned over one of their abandoned locations out in South Pacific to him…a small island called Nomansian. In 1994, Pine Industries went public, providing technology to the world. To the general public, Pine Industries was just another technology firm that designed military hardware that always had cutting-edge advancements…no one knew that it was a front for Aeon or its true objective.

However, what Phillip and the rest of Aeon didn't know is that Pine had his own agenda. His enthusiasm at being entrusted with Kronos should have been a warning sign, but no one paid attention. In fact, some board members were impressed with the fact that the young man wasn't afraid to get his own hands dirty, luring certain members of the super-powered community who Aeon deemed as possibly putting up any resistance when Phase Two if Phoenix was activated to his island, and eliminating them. It was an effective method because it allowed Pine to test out various types of technology on his isolated island and get rid of any potential enemies to the cause.

Then, just last year, in December of 1997, one of the former heroes of the past, attorney Simon Paladino, decided to investigate the disappearance of some of his fellow supers. He came very close to linking Pine Industries to Aeon in his investigation and, according to Pine, caused a lot of damage before finally being killed. Because of the near breach in security, Pine was ordered to put Kronos on hold until Aeon could determine how far Paladino had gotten in his investigation. However, Pine had other plans and that was when his true agenda was revealed and he went after the target he had wanted to go after all along.

Needless to say, that debacle came crashing down a week ago, resulting in Pine's death and the damned NSA storming the island base on Nomansian before an Aeon clean-up crew could get to it. In fact, Phillip was suspicious at how fast Dicker's people had responded. It was almost as if he knew in advance what was going to happen, but that wasn't possible.

 _Then again, Dicker never did trust us since that incident in '43._

Richard Dicker, a name that lived in infamy within Aeon. To most of the junior members within Aeon, Dicker's name was pretty much synonymous with "Benedict Arnold" because he walked away from Aeon when people like him were needed…at least that's the official history they were given. But they didn't know the truth about what happened in 1943. They didn't know that one of the original members of the Aeon Society had framed him for a crime he didn't commit. All they knew is that he had a disagreement with Aeon leadership, quit, and then went to work for the US government and eventually became the Director of the NSA. As far as most of the rank and file was concerned, Dicker was the enemy.

 _An enemy we created because we still treated him as an outsider and didn't believe his claims of innocence. The only person who believed him was Doctor Primoris and we all know how that turned out._

He turned to look down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and the Reflecting Pool down below. His security detail stood at the base of the steps and he knew there were men surrounding the perimeter of the building, making sure there were no unwanted guests.

"Okay, Dicker," Phillip called out. "I'm here like you requested."

"Well, we know that's a lie," a voice chuckled from the shadows. "You were supposed to come alone."

Phillip turned to face in the direction of the voice and saw a tall man with dark short-cropped hair in a dark overcoat stepping out of the shadows. "Flynn," Phillip hissed, venom in his voice as he recognized Dicker's right hand man and enforcer. He wasn't sure, but there might have been some fear in his voice as well because he saw the man smile. "This was not part of the deal," he said, "I was supposed to meet with your boss."

"And you were supposed to come alone," Agent Flynn replied, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal. "Both sides lied, so we're even. No harm, no foul."

"Where is Dicker?" Phillip asked. "This concerns him, not you."

"Actually," Flynn said, a smirk on his face, "I think this concerns your little sandbox out in the Pacific and the lost little boy we found playing in it."

Color drained from Phillip's face, but he managed to regain his composure. "So you know about Pine's experiments," he said. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"Which one, you're going to have to be specific," Flynn said, "because we've got the various weapons that your little psychopath was working on, his little 'list of people to kill', and the little walking science experiment that apparently broke itself out of its tank before collapsing in a hallway." A cruel smile formed on his lips. "We suspected Pine was into weird shit, but we never expected what we found."

"You don't know what you've found," Phillip said. "That boy is a danger; you need to turn him over to us."

"Y'know…my boss told me that you would probably say something like that," Flynn said, folding his arms across his chest. "He also told me to tell you the answer was 'no' and I should suggest what you and your little entourage out there could do with yourselves."

"You're making a big mistake," Phillip warned the man, "I can make life miserable for your employer with a phone call. We have connections to-"

"To several key senators, a few house reps, two members of the supreme court, about six or seven lobby interests, and a few other insiders including that madame you keep on your payroll to link you up with any more pawns," Flynn finished, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, those kind of threats won't work on us. Nice try though."

"The boy needs help."

"Oh, I agree, but Dicker believes your idea of help is dissecting the poor kid and trying to figure out how he's wired." The NSA agent reached into his coat, pulled out a large manila envelope, and handed it to Phillip. "Given what's in those pictures, I don't blame you for being a little concerned. Although, you gotta' admit that's impressive for a kid armed with a sharpie marker."

Phillip opened the envelope and his face took on a blotchy color as he examined the photographs within. They were pictures of a holding cell, the hallway outside the holding cell, and an interrogation room. The walls, the floor, any surface that could be written on had words, markings, pictures, or symbols drawn on them. He recognized a good portion of the symbols as encrypted text. Some of the pictures looked like schematics to devices that Buddy Pine had developed for Aeon. "No," he finally said, after taking several seconds to recover from shock. "It's not possible."

"Believe me, Mr. Lavielle, it's very possible," Flynn said. "We have our best encryption experts going over what that kid has scrawled all over the walls and if even a tenth of what I heard them babbling about is true, I sincerely hope there is a God and that he will dump you and your little club in the deepest pocket of hell with a king sized red-hot poker shoved up your asses in a sort of giant 'Aeon-Kabob' and he will slowly have you roasting over the fires rotisserie style for a very long time."

"You don't know what you have," Phillip snapped. "In the wrong hands, the knowledge contained in that boy's skull could-"

"Could what?" Flynn asked, cutting Phillip off again. "Bring the world to it's knees, destroy civilization, bring about the apocalypse, Armageddon, or whatever metaphoric crisis you can dig up?" He shook his head, his cruel and bitter chuckle faintly echoing through the structure. "Spare me the drama, okay? We know you don't really need the boy. You're just concerned that he might leak out something you don't want anyone outside your little club to know about and I don't blame you." He then glanced down at Phillip's security team. "And don't even think about having your crew try extracting the kid, because it will be very messy for you and anyone you send."

Almost as if on cue, every member of Phillip's security detail suddenly twitched before suddenly dropping to the ground. "Relax," Flynn assured him. "They're just tranquilizers. If this weren't a friendly meeting, I would have had the snipers use the clips with the hollow tipped rounds." He then turned and started to walk away, disappearing into the shadows. "You can keep the photos, Mr. Lavielle, we have the originals. And remember what I said; you come after the kid, it will be considered an act of war. Those are the boss' words, not mine...have a good night."

Phillip simply stood there as the NSA agent disappeared into the darkness. He couldn't believe what he just heard. A government agency was actually threatening to go against Aeon. It was almost laughable and would have been if it were a group like the CIA or FBI. But this was the NSA, and not just the NSA, but Richard Dicker, someone who knew how Aeon operated. If anyone could take down Aeon, it would be Dicker. After all, it was Dicker who had destroyed Aeon's PSI project back in the early '90s. It was because of Dicker that a majority of Aeon's psionic research was destroyed.

 _And now he possibly has access to whatever was on Pine's database. If he's threatening a war with us, this could jeopardize everything we've worked for._

He slowly started down the steps of the Lincoln memorial, pulling his cell-phone out of his coat. With practiced ease, he dialed a number and waited.

"This is the Director, call all the council members and senior project leaders. We have an emergency."

* * *

Miles away in a high security containment cell, a ten year old child sat on the ground, spinning a toy globe and ignoring the rest of the toys that were in the room. In one hand, he held a small object constructed out of lego blocks and he held it above the globe, hovering somewhere over where the Atlantic Ocean was represented.

And then he started to sing.

"4...3...2...1...Earth below us...drifting, falling...floating weightless...calling, calling home..."

* * *

And somewhere up in orbit of the real planet Earth, currently in position over the mid-Atlantic, the Galatea Space Station floated out there in the black void. To the on-duty station technician assigned to monitor communications, it must have been his imagination. It wouldn't be the first time that intermittent static played tricks on him, especially since he had been pulling a double shift.

There's no way he could have heard a child's voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own Aberrant, White Wolf does...until I win the lotto mega millions and buy it from them (HA! Like that would ever happen). Don't own Incredibles, Pixar and Brad Bird do...and they'd kill me if they saw what I've done to their creation. "Major Tom" originally performed by Peter Schilling (and his way of paying homage to David Bowie's "Space Oddity"). PSI, originally created by Iron Crown Enterprises (the original creators of the HERO/Champions RPG), but pretty much abandoned and retooled so many times by so many people that I'm certain they don't mind my swiping the name and incorporating it into my sick and twisted world. Okay...I think I've covered myself.

Author's Notes: Okay...chapter three. For those White Wolf fans who are still lurking around...and the one who pieced it together...yes, this is my way of acknowledging canon and then side-stepping it...hey, if JJ Abrams can do that with Star Trek and make it work, I'm sure I can try it here. And now...on with the show.

* * *

 _ **Aeon**_ _**Plaza**_

 _ **New York City**_

 _ **March 16th, 1998**_

 _ **1100 hrs**_

The boardroom was silent as everyone studied the images being played across the wall-mounted screen. Most of it was security footage along with some still shots apparently taken from crime scene photos. The images were disturbing…six dead bodies, four men and two women, lying out on the front yard of the smoldering ruins of a house. Clips of various media outlets were saying it was a robbery gone wrong and the bodies had yet to be identified. However, to the people in the Aeon Plaza boardroom, they had a pretty good idea of what happened.

Their attempts to extract the specimen failed, miserably.

Standing at the head of the table, Phillip Lavielle cleared his throat before he pressed the pause button on the remote. "We're not sure how they were killed; but in addition to the extraction team, the support team was taken out as well." He pressed the play button on the remote and the image of a van burning in the middle of a city intersection filled the screen. "The media has not linked these two incidents together." _At least not yet,_ he mentally added and he was certain a majority of the people in the room were thinking the same thing. "According to eyewitnesses, the vehicle containing the support team simply exploded."

"Do we know the boy's current location?" asked Margaret Mercer. She was one of a small minority in Aeon's council that voted against the retrieval plan. Phillip, along with others in favor of the plan, was annoyed at her lack of backbone, citing that she lacked the courage her grandfather, founder Max Mercer, had. However, part of him wondered if she knew something that others didn't. She had been keeping something of a low profile within the organization, preferring to devote her time and efforts in rebuilding Aeon's shattered PSI project which had been renamed "Project Pandora". Though he had nothing against her personally, Phillip was thankful for her focusing primarily on her own department and not on the direction Aeon was going. In fact, he was surprised that she didn't entirely object to Project Phoenix. She had voiced her concern, and pointed out that she would have voted against the proposal had she been part of the inner council at the time, but the council had made its decision and she would not fight it.

 _So, instead, she isolates herself and the rest of her group away from us. However, Pandora is not that important, and if it keeps her busy and out of our way, it serves a valid purpose._

"No," Phillip said, pushing his thoughts aside. "Although I'm certain they have it in a secured NSA facility and not a safe house."

"It?" This time it was Thetis who spoke. She was one of the members that voted in favor of extracting the specimen. "Could we at least refer to the specimen as a living being before we have him dissected?"

Phillip pressed another button on the remote and images of the photos NSA agent Flynn had given him appeared on the screen. Even though it was obviously done by a child with a marker, it was still a disturbing sight to see images that were stored in a computer mainframe somewhere interpreted by a child with a sharpie marker. One picture showed a crudely drawn (but accurate) schematic for one of Pine's "Omnidroids". And then there were the other multiple pictures that showed dismembered figures with the word "terminated" followed by the letter X and a number specifying what number in the Omnidroid series accomplished the task. Those who had seen the actual footage of the Omnidroid trials previously had no problem recognizing those images. Phillip was certain that a good number of those people were probably feeling a little queasy remembering those grisly pictures…he certainly was.

"As some of you may recall," he said, ignoring the taste of bile in the back of his throat. "Those are images that we have seen from the various reports given to us by Pine in the past. All that data is in that 'child's' head and it's obviously leaking out. From what our own analysts have gathered from the drawing, it's mostly jumbled thoughts with no coherent pattern. He may not know what he's putting out there, but it's only a matter of time before he starts throwing out information about Phoenix and other things that could hurt us if it fell into the wrong hands."

"Oh god," he heard someone mutter, "he's defragmenting and reconfiguring."

Phillip looked in the direction of the new voice, a bookish young man with tinted glasses that he recognized as Sheldon Royce, one of Aeon's special project group leaders. "Something you'd care to share with us, Royce?"

The young man hesitated before he answered, it was obvious that he wasn't used to being in one of the Council meetings. "I'm sorry, Director," he said, "it's just that after reading the reports about this…kid…and the possibility that the entire island database was downloaded into his skull, it's obvious that he's been augmented to handle that kind of information…maybe a chip or something wired into his brain."

"We've read the report," sneered Robert Lansing, "now just get to the point."

"The actions we saw him take from that little bit of footage from the island lab, his random scrawling all over the room, it's as if his brain is trying to sort out all the data and determine what's useless data that can be dumped or stored versus what is needed to function. His mind is merely reacting to all that information up there and he's 'bleeding some of it out' like the way some computers will display random garbage on the screen."

"Except it's not garbage," Phillip said.

"No, but his random scrawling could just be his brain's way of using the body to display various information going through his brain, except the body isn't as fast as the mind which means we're just getting a glimpse of whatever could be streaming through that kid's head." Royce paused for a moment as he realized something, then his eyes widened in shock. "Oh god…Director, I know this is above my clearance, but I have to know something. Pine was instrumental helping design most of our technological advances, right?"

"That's hardly a secret, Royce."

"No, but did he have anything to do with the construction of the Galatea Station?"

"Yes, but I don't see the relevance-"; Phillip stopped himself in mid-sentence when he realized what Royce was getting at. The realization had him mentally reeling and he closed his eyes for a moment and hoped that he didn't show any sign of losing composure. "Pine's mainframe was linked to Galatea," he said after a moment's pause. "That means the boy probably had access to everything, including Phoenix."

Royce nodded nervously in agreement. "Yes," he said, "and it's only a matter of time before that information or anything pertaining to it 'bleeds out', but I'm more concerned about what will happen after he 'defragments' and starts operating normally."

"I'm afraid you lost us, Sheldon," Lansing chuckled. He tried his best to sound condescending toward what he regarded as little more than a glorified lab-technician, but even his sarcasm sounded a little forced. "Exactly what are you getting at?"

"What if Pine programmed this thing with some sort of intelligence or personality…a base frame of an AI that learns? We know that he must have because of what we saw from the lab footage, it IS self-aware. The thing I'd be worried about is what it's going to do when it fully integrates itself." Royce's final comment caused most of the people at the table to murmur their concerns to each other. Even Lansing seemed concerned at this revelation, leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face.

Phillip sat down in his seat, making sure he did it slowly and deliberately instead of just collapsing down into it like he wanted. This was not good. If Royce was correct, there was a good chance that all of Aeon's plans could be floating around in that child's brain.

 _And after our latest attempt, Dicker probably has the boy buried in some deep dark hole somewhere. There are very few options left…unless…_

Phillip didn't like the idea that crossed his mind, but it was a solution and it would work. "Then that leaves one other option," he finally said. "We make the information the boy has irrelevant."

Half the board members were confused, particularly those who were not fully briefed on the progress of Project Phoenix, but the looks on the faces of the remaining members made it clear that they knew what he was hinting at, and not all of them seemed in favor or the idea.

It was Thetis who spoke up first. "You want to move up the timetable for Phase Two."

"Is that possible?" asked another board member whose name Phillip couldn't recall at the moment. "Is that wise?"

"No." This came from Margaret Mercer who actually stood up. "You cannot be proposing this, Phillip."

"Then what do you propose, Margaret?"

"Negotiate with Dicker, he's not entirely against us. He can be reasonable."

"Yeah, right," Lansing snickered, "we are talking about the same right Rick Dicker who, back in 1944, told the Society to, and I'm just quoting from what I've read from the archives, 'go fuck yourselves', right? Or are we talking about the Rick Dicker whose NSA task force that stormed our PSI project ten years ago and killed just about everyone involved?"

"Those people had gone rogue, Lansing. We couldn't stop them, so he did." Margaret gave her fellow Aeon member a sharp look. "People, I might add, Robert, that you were affiliated with quite frequently before the schism."

"Careful, Margaret," Lansing warned, "if you start making this about loyalties, all of us will be on the block, including you."

"Enough!" Phillip's voice echoed slightly through the boardroom. "This is not about what happened in the past, we're talking about the present and the future here." Phillip emphasized the words 'present' and 'future', knowing that would at least get everyone back on the same page. "If we begin Phase Two, it will be too late for Dicker and the NSA to react. We already have ninety percent of it in place, so moving up the time table by eight months should not be an issue."

"Eight months." It was Thetis again. "Do you think Galatea will be fully operational by next month?"

"If we put some more supplies on NASA's next shuttle launch," said another board member, "but it would mean greasing a few palms and making some promises to various groups."

"A small price to pay," Phillip said. "See that it gets done, I hope to see those supplies en route to Galatea next week."

"So Phase two will begin next month; have you set a particular date?"

Phillip gave Thetis a wry grin. "I was thinking the twelfth of April."

"Easter Sunday," Lansing chuckled, obviously amused by that date, "talk about being sacrilegious…I like it."

"Stow it, Lansing," Mercer snapped, "it still has to be approved by the council."

"Do you really think the motion has a chance of being defeated, Margaret?" Phillip asked, confident that he had more than enough votes to back his motion.

"No," Mercer replied, "but I don't have to be a part of this." She slowly got up from the table and made her way towards the door. "You want blood on your hands, that's your decision, but I and my people will have no part in it."

"Running away as usual?" Lansing asked as Mercer opened the door to leave.

Mercer turned to look at Lansing and everyone was shocked by the venomous look in her eyes and the coldness in her voice as she spoke. "No," she said, "but someone has to be around to pick up the mess after you screw up playing God."

She then left the room, the door closing behind her. In a way, Phillip was relieved that Mercer had left, but another part of him was once again wondering what the woman was up to and if she knew something he didn't. However, he managed to push those doubts away.

 _It doesn't matter, we know how dark the future will be if we don't act. If she doesn't have the backbone for it, then we'll deal with her when the time comes._

"So," he said, clasping his hands together. "Let's put this up for a vote, shall we?"

* * *

 _ **Undisclosed NSA Containment Facility**_

 _ **Washington**_ _**D.C.**_

 _ **March 16th 1998**_

 _ **1900 hrs**_

NSA Director Richard Dicker watched from the observation room through the one way glass window as the child sat in the middle of the interrogation room. The table had been removed from the room, replaced by a small bed that had been set up against the wall. The NSA staff had tried to make the boy as comfortable as possible, making the room suitable for its young resident by stocking it with some toys, a television, and even a game console. And yet the boy ignored most of the comforts provided, the toys and game console neatly set aside except for the television, the small globe of the Earth, and the object he constructed out of lego blocks a week earlier. The boy, who was referred to as "Adam X" in the very small amount of data they were able to retrieve from the lab they found him in, would sit in front of the globe for hours, circling the globe with the tiny lego object, and singing that same damn song over and over again.

" _Earth Beloooow us,_

 _Drifting, faaalling…_

 _Floating weightless,_

 _Calling, calling hooooome…"_

The lyrics belonged to an old 80s tune titled "Major Tom" by German singer Peter Schilling. The boy had been practically singing that since he was first placed under observation. The only times he didn't do that was when he had to use the restroom, slept, undergoing whatever tests the medical staff subjected him to, or drawing. The psychologists brought in to study the boy were still trying to determine what, if anything, was wrong with him. After a few days of tests, they concluded the boy was highly intelligent but lacking any form of human empathy, more than a couple of the assembled doctors suggested the boy might be autistic. Then the drawing with the sharpie started and that was when one of the doctors determined the boy was remembering whatever it was that had been downloaded into his mind.

IT specialists and crypto-specialists were brought in to decipher what was being scrawled down and what they had uncovered was incredible…and horrifying. But the scary part was when one of the techs noticed the lego construct in the child's hand, scanned the dimensions of it into a computer, and it was revealed that it was a basic mock-up of the Galatea Space station. The positions where the boy held the satellite over the globe would actually coincide with the real Galatea's position to the world in real time.

That meant only one thing…the boy was still connected to something and the trail led to the Aeon foundation. Of course, having the Aeon people suddenly showing up and trying to push Dicker's people around was also a big clue. Whatever experiment this "Adam" was a part of, must have been very important, because Aeon was stopping at nothing to get the boy back; first through threats and intimidation, then through trying an outright extraction from the NSA safe house they had the kid placed in.

Then, of course, there was the incident only a couple weeks earlier that involved the Parr family and pretty much led to this mess. Dicker knew the general public was ready for the super-powered to "return", but he knew there would be others who wouldn't be too happy. In fact, he was surprised that Aeon hadn't at least tried to orchestrate an incident to reinforce the ban on supers.

 _Then again, after the PSI fiasco, I'm sure they wouldn't want me coming forward with the evidence I have on them. The people in power would be removed, but new people would move in to fill the vacuum. I'd rather deal with the devil I know than the devil I don't know._

There were times he wished he could simply carry out a war with Aeon and be done with it, but he knew better. The group was too well connected and had their fingers in too many pies. Even if he went after them and crippled them, they would still somehow survive because there were too many officials in too many governments that owed Aeon a favor. Besides, the Foundation wasn't entirely evil, there were plenty of good people there who truly did good things.

 _Unfortunately, their leaders would rather play God and there's not a damn thing I can really do about it except slow them down._

However, the child sitting in that room was definitely a game-changer; that was clear from the way Aeon was scrambling to get their hands on the boy. Dicker didn't like the idea of using a child as a weapon against the group, but he also didn't like the idea of turning the boy over to a group who probably kill and dissect the boy. It struck him odd that the Aeon Society that he had once belonged to so many years ago had pretty much turned into the group they had been fighting against back in those days.

 _The Order would laugh and applaud at what Aeon had become; their leader would probably monologue about the damn irony of it all for an hour. And that boy would just be a pawn to be used and discarded. But does that make me any better than them?_

He looked back into the room and noticed the boy was scribbling on the globe with a sharpie marker.

 _What the hell? This is new._

Dicker switched on one of the monitors and had the security camera zoom in on the globe to get a better look at what the boy was writing.

000112041998...000112041998...000112041998...000112041998...

 _What the hell do those numbers mean, kid? What are you trying to tell us?_

Within half an hour, the boy had completely covered the globe with the numbers and went back to circling his lego-block space station around it, singing that damn song again.

"Earth below us...drifting, falling...floating weightless...calling, calling home..."

Dicker shook his head and turned to leave the room, only to find a tall and powerfully built man in a business suit and overcoat standing in front of the door; an impossible feat given the fact that Dicker had secured the door and it couldn't be opened without his authorization code. Instead of showing surprise at the intruder, Dicker only grunted and turned his attention back to the boy in the other room. "I was wondering when you would get here, Primoris," he said.

"I do believe you're the only one who still calls me that, Richard," the intruder said as he stepped up to stand next to Dicker. "I could say that I'm surprised that you were able to track me down to get that message to me, but I would be lying. If anyone could track me, it would be you."

"You're giving me too much credit, Michael." Dicker allowed himself a small grin. "I knew that you would have been in the area after the event involving the Parr family was made public. I also knew your tendency to pick hotels that were fairly pricey and known for being discreet. Only two of those fit that description and are near where she is currently living."

"How is she?"

"She and her family are fine. We were able to contain the situation without incarcerating anyone, though I did have to mind-wipe the poor girl that was babysitting your grandson." Dicker turn to face the man. "You should see her, Michael. She is your daughter, after all."

The man once known as Doctor Primoris gave Dicker a sad smile. "You know I cannot, Richard."

"Ah yes," Dicker chuckled. "You have no desire to mingle with us 'mere mortals'...but this is your daughter's family, Michael. And believe me, they're hardly 'mere mortals' themselves."

Michael gave Dicker a curious look. "If you're trying to anger me, Richard, then your efforts are in vain. However, I noticed that you haven't reacted in your usual fashion and drawn a weapon on me when I suddenly appeared in this room."

"Given the fact that you're pushing a hundred years, but look like you're thirty and I've seen you toss a car through the wall of a building, it doesn't surprise me that you can materialize out of thin air, especially since I called you." Dicker paused and returned his attention to the boy. "I was hoping you could help with this."

Michael studied the boy for a few moments. For the first time since Dicker had known him, the man seemed mystified. "This boy," he finally said, "he's an engineered being, isn't he?"

"How can you tell?"

"Because he doesn't feel right." Michael shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's just that I can sense other beings like myself and mere humans...think of it as some sort of radar and I can tell what people are by their signature. That's the best way I can describe it."

"I get the idea, Michael. You can tell if a person is a super or just one of us 'norms'."

"A crude way of putting it, but accurate. This child...he is something completely different. On the one hand, I sense him as a human, but it's as if he's resonating some sort of echo or signature that isn't displayed by normal humans or beings like myself. He's not of extra-terrestrial origin, because they also have unique signatures, so that leaves one other viable option...he was someone's experiment." Michael paused and smiled. "And my own contact within Aeon informed me as well."

Dicker grunted again. He wasn't surprised Michael Donighal had a spy in Aeon. However, he had a pretty good idea who that person was. It was probably the same person who would occasionally throw information his way. "So, what has Margaret told you?"

Michael grinned. "Richard, sometimes I wonder if you truly are one of the 'mere mortals' you claim to be."

"Very mortal," Dicker said. "Just old and paranoid."

"For an old man approaching eighty, you don't seem too ready to die of old age." The smile on Michael's face faded as he returned to the matter at hand. "Your paranoia is justified and I understand there was a recent attempt by Aeon to take the boy from your custody."

"That's an understatement." Dicker didn't hide his anger. "I lost two good agents to Aeon's thugs and my best agent is currently in the hospital."

"That would be this Agent Flynn I heard Margaret talking about. Apparently, he's angered the Aeon leadership. I'm assuming he's the one who killed those six agents who stormed your safe house?"

"No, the boy did it."

Michael arched an eyebrow at that revelation. "The child killed them?"

"According to Flynn, the boy managed to pick up one of the dead agents guns and just sat there on the floor with that damn toy globe of his and pulled the trigger six times." Dicker managed to suppress the shudder because he had seen the surveillance video of that incident. "Six shots, six dead Aeon agents. He then handed the gun to Agent Flynn and went back to playing with his globe."

"Really?" Once again, Michel Donighal sounded impressed. It was as if someone had presented him a challenging puzzle that was worth his attention. "What other information have you gathered-"

TAP. TAP. TAP.

Michael stopped in mid-sentence as he and Dicker both turned towards the window and saw the boy standing there in front of them, holding his globe in front of him.

"I know you're there," the boy said almost in a sing-song voice, "and I can see you."

The monitor in the observation room flickered and the image changed to show live camera footage of the observation room itself. Dicker looked up and pointed at one of the two cameras in the tiny room. "Damn...the boy is somehow linked to our cameras, he just activated the ones in this room."

"Amazing," Michael said, truly impressed by the child's ability. He then looked directly at the boy. "Who are you?'

"You don't know me," the boy said, "but I know you...Michael Daemon Donighal...Doctor Primoris...and what you might become."

Michael's face paled. "How does he know this? Other than Margaret Mercer, no one should know this."

"The Oracle knows everything...the past...the present...the future...it's all happened before...it will happen again...and again...and again...some things change...some things remain the same...order...chaos...oblivion...and then something arises out of the ashes...ashes, ashes...we all fall dead. Zero zero zero one twelve zero four nineteen ninety-eight...death and resurrection. Death for most, resurrection for others."

"Oracle?" Michael repeated. There was actual concern in his voice and Dicker didn't like the sound of that. Michael Daemon Donighal was never one to show concern like this; even in the most dire situations of the past, he always faced it with a cool aloofness that usually unsettled his enemies and allies alike. "The boy had access to the Oracle Artifact? How is that possible, it supposedly disappeared eight years ago."

"Shit," Dicker grumbled. "I was afraid you were going to bring that up. That artifact should have been destroyed back when we had the chance. From what we were able to gather, Buddy Pine, the psychotic piece of shit that created this kid, was able to decipher a lot of the artifact's knowledge before it was stolen. Apparently, he deciphered a lot more than he let on."

"This isn't good, Richard."

"No shit."

"Seriously, Richard, look at the globe in the child's hand...the numbers. What do they look like to you?"

Dicker shrugged. "For all I know it could be a coded sequence or a date...hold on...a date. Three zeros, a one, a zero and a four, and 1998? It has to be a time and date. The first minute of the twelfth day of the fourth month of this year?"

"April 12, 1998," Michael said. "Wait...the boy said 'Death and resurrection'."

"Son of bitch," Dicker spat out, "that's Easter Sunday."

"Congratulations," the boy said. "And the clock is now ticking." He stepped away from the widow, sat back on the floor and began to circle the globe again with his little mock-up of Galatea.

"What's that in his hand?" Michael asked.

"It's supposed to be the Galatea space station," Dicker replied. "What's scary is that if you contact NASA, you'd find that station's current position overhead matches the position the kid is holding it over the globe."

"Galatea Station." Michael's face paled even more. "You're certain of this."

"Yeah, and now he's singing that damn song again." Dicker shook his head again, letting out a sigh of frustration. "It's as if he's trying to tell us something."

"He is," Michael replied, a resigned tone in his voice. "And I'm not sure I like the message."

"And what message might that be?" Dicker asked, returning his attention to the boy in the room.

"That some things can't be stopped, merely altered slightly; but even that might be enough to avoid what's coming."

"There you go again," Dicker snapped, turning back to reface Michael. "That artifact has been nothing but trouble since you-" He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing that it was pointless talking to someone who was no longer there.

"Dammit," he grumbled to the otherwise empty room. "I hate it when you do shit like that, Michael."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Incredibles or Aberrant. Pixar/Disney and White Wolf do. SBTV is a fictional network created by Swissair over on Deviant Art. I hope he doesn't mind me swiping it. Some of the news excerpts at the beginning of this are from the main Aberrant source book. There were not any station identifications for each line, so I added various news networks.

 **Author's notes** : Okay, as I said before, I had the sick urge to write this after watching "Battlestar Galactica: The Plan" and JJ Abrams version of Star Trek. Originally, I was going to tell this story in a series of flashbacks throughout "War of Angels", but I felt it would bog the story down. As it is, there are some elements in this story that tie into what's happened in my previous stories and what's going on in WoA (as well as hinting what might happen in the future). For those of you White Wolf purists who might not be happy with how I twisted and changed things, I hope you like how I paid a nod to what has happened in the past. But just remember, just because some things happened differently, it doesn't mean that there's going to be a "happier outcome". For all you know, my twisted 'verse might be as bad or worse than canon. For all you Incredibles fans who have had the guts to hang on for this crazy ride, I just want to say "Thank you" and I hope you've enjoyed it so far and plan to stick around. The Author would also like to thank: Shannon, Danni, Nullchronicler, Swissair, Zarthrax, Walker of the Wheel (though I haven't heard from you lately), various readers from those other countries (including the guy from the Russian Federation who at least takes a look at my fic every so often...don't know who you are, but I'm glad you're watching), and...of course McSlave...whose sick and twisted idea for a campaign is responsible for this whole damn thing. Yes, Nick...I blame this on you. :-D

* * *

 _". ..In the wake of the Galatea's explosion, freak accidents and catastrophes are erupting all around the world..."_

Fox News

 _"...earthquake, at least 4.0 on the Richter scale, rocked Denver.. ."_

NBC Nightly News

 _". ..series of explosions on the streets of New York City, including one threatening a school bus.. ."_

CBS Evening News

 _"...United States government has declared a state of Defcon_ _ **3.**_ _."_

CTV News

 _". . .India is blaming a Pakistani attack for the sudden flood of the Ganges, which has washed away.."_

BBC

 _". . .teenager was unable to be rushed to the hospital, remaining electrically charged for 20 minutes, despite paramedics' attempts to ground out the electrical charge..."_

SBTV News, Vancouver

 _"...mass suicide of a California religious commune, which detectives are attributing to a millennia1 death pact..."_

-ABC News

" _Of all the days to change the world, why the hell did God have to pick a fucking Monday?"_

-Henry "Duke" Rollo, The Duke Rollo show.

* * *

 _ **Director's Office**_

 _ **NSA Facility**_

 _ **Langley, Virginia**_

 _ **March 24th, 1998**_

 _ **0300 hrs**_

Richard Dicker sat behind his desk and looked at the large video screen built into one wall of his office. He had the screen break down into several windows that showed news footage from various media outlets and poured himself another shot of bourbon as he watched the chaos that happened within the last twenty-four hours. He had spent a majority of the last sixteen hours talking to the President, the chiefs of staff, a few congressmen, and the heads of various law enforcement agencies, telling them that he had things under control on his end. It wasn't exactly a lie, he did have things under control on his end, because the order to his people were simple; be alert but stand by for further instruction.

In other words, he instructed his people to basically do nothing except protect NSA interests should they come under attack. The supers who were still under NSA jurisdiction were politely told to limit their actions to providing aid and humanitarian relief when needed. Those supers who had been "retired" during the ban (and had not been murdered by Pine) seemed content with keeping a low profile and followed Dicker's orders, only operating out in the open if their neighborhood was affected by the chaos. Though the ban had been lifted a few weeks ago, very few had actually stepped forward into the public spotlight. Even the Crusaders, which was the NSA's covert super-team (and only used in dire circumstances during the ban) was kept on "stand-by" status. He was tempted to reveal the existence of the Crusaders to the public, but he knew that it wasn't time yet.

Then again, he pretty much knew something like this was going to happen. After all, that was the price of having a glimpse of the possible future.

With practiced ease and years of habit, he had no problem throwing back that shot of bourbon, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation as the liquid burned its way down his throat. There was a time he wished he could get drunk, but he knew his enhanced metabolism would have broken it down well before it hit his bloodstream.

 _I'm getting way too old for this shit. Playing God should be left to God, not a bunch of power-hungry mortals with delusions of grandeur._

He remembered his one glimpse of the data on the artifact back in 1942, when he first joined the Aeon Society. Most of the members distrusted him, particularly Michael Donighal (who was using the moniker "Doctor Primoris" at the time). As far as they were concerned, he was an American soldier foisted on them by the government to make sure they were being patriotic and to report their actions to his superiors. They were only half-right, he never questioned their patriotism…he was there because military intelligence (which actually meant something back in the day) had uncovered that The Order had someone inside Aeon. He never told them his true mission which was to ferret out the traitor in their midst, but he wasn't really well received by the group, particularly the core members. However, there was one exception: Max Mercer.

Aeon's main founder, though Dicker only met him a few times, showed trust and even approved of Dicker's joining the group despite the opposition. In that year, Dicker had earned enough respect from Mercer to be shown some of Aeon's secrets…including the Oracle Artifact. Dicker hadn't realized it at the time, but it was a test. When he was shown what they had uncovered from the artifact, Dicker's response was simple: "Get rid of that damn thing before it fucks us over."

His language and anger as he stalked out of the room, telling them that he didn't want to know anything else about the artifact, stunned everyone particularly this one arrogant French-Canadian named Lavielle who was stupid enough to block Dicker when he tried to leave. Two seconds later, Lavielle was on the floor, out cold and with a broken jaw. Dicker hadn't won any friends among the "core membership", but he did receive a note from Mercer that contained only two words: You passed. The other bizarre event stemming from the incident with the Oracle Artifact was Doctor Primoris no longer treating him with open disgust and contempt. Oh, the good Doctor still talked down to Dicker with a condescending tone, but it was more as an academic than as an enemy.

Then the shit hit the fan in 1943 and he was accused of being a spy for the Nazis. It didn't help that his contact in the US government was killed by a sniper and he was framed for that as well. While on the run, he figured out who the traitor within Aeon was and that they were responsible for framing him. When Crackshot and Primoris caught up with him in Paris, he could have sworn he was a goner. If he hadn't fallen the way he had trying to clear that wall, he was sure Crackshot's bullet would have hit him the head instead of the shoulder. Then Primoris jumped in and proceeded to beat him to a pulp while Crackshot was screaming at Primoris to get out of the way so she could take the shot.

He shook his head to get rid of those memories and return to the present. He glanced at the screen and focused on the footage of a New York firefighter seemingly drawing all the flames out of a burning school bus and into his body. Already, the media were calling this young man "The Fireman" and hailing him as a superhero.

"What a fucking joke," he muttered in disgust. "Only fifteen years ago, they would have labeled someone like him as a threat and brought him up on charges of some sort."

"The world will change, Richard," someone said from behind him, "especially when it deals with public opinion."

Dicker didn't even bother to turn around, not surprised in the slightest as a second shot-glass was put down next to his. Without even looking up, he poured a shot for his guest and another for himself. "I was wondering if you were going to show up, Michael."

Michael Donighal pulled up a chair next to Dicker's desk and sat down before slamming back his shot of bourbon. He then held the empty glass in his hand for a second, studying it. "It's a pity that I cannot get drunk," he said as he set the glass back on the desk, "because I don't like killing indiscriminately and it would be nice to momentarily forget about it."

"If you're referring to the twenty people on board that station, Michael, keep in mind that at least half of them were focused on bringing about an 'engineered apocalypse'." Dicker finished off his shot and then set his glass aside as well. "I don't condone what you did either, but like you said, it couldn't be helped. Don't forget what you showed me almost sixty years ago…we knew this could happen, more than likely would, we just didn't know what Aeon would be doing at this point. I don't even think Maggie knew."

"She didn't," Michael assured him. "She had not become aware of Phoenix until only a few years ago, but she did not believe they would enact it."

"Twenty lives, Michael...ten of them possibly innocent. Twenty lives versus billions, it's an easy decision, but there was no way around this, was there? Was this…what was that term you used back then…one of those 'static' events?"

Michael shook his head. "Very few events are static, Richard. We could have sat by, done nothing, and let Aeon go through with Phoenix." He gave Dicker a sad smile. "The Earth would have been subjected to all sorts of geological, sociological, and biological instabilities that would have resulted with roughly ninety percent of the population being wiped out and the world being plunged back into the Dark Ages within a decade or two. The scions of Aeon would then go about bringing about a 'new dawn' of mankind and, indeed, a new and possibly great civilization would arise from the ashes."

"Sounds like something you would have approved of in the past," Dicker said; there was no accusation in his voice, just a simple statement of fact. "After all, Michael, I would have thought you would set yourself up as one of the 'gods' in this so called new age."

"You're right," Michael chuckled, not even bothered in the slightest by Dicker's comment, "I would have perhaps welcomed it at one time, but that's been done before and even those who preceded us eventually failed and faded away to become nothing more than myths and legend."

"Preceded us," Dicker repeated, lost in thought for a moment as he pondered the other man's words. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"No, you wouldn't." Michael smiled again as he reached into his coat, pulled out a small data-chip, and set it on Dicker's desk. "I've always had my theories about the ancient gods of mythology and various religious figures throughout history, but that pales in comparison to what was stored in the Oracle artifact."

Dicker picked up the chip and examined it for a few seconds before looking back up at Donighal. "What is this?" he asked.

"Pine's incomplete copy of what he got from the artifact," Michael replied. "He only decrypted part of it, focusing mostly on the technology he could develop from the information he gathered. However, he was well aware of Phoenix and was making sure he would be a part of it. He helped build Galatea, and was making sure his database had been copied and stored there."

"Son of a bitch," Dicker grumbled as he tapped a few keys on his computer, causing the main video screen on the wall to switch to a single image; live streaming security footage of a child sleeping in a bed, one of his arms wrapped around a toy globe as if it were a stuffed animal. "It makes sense now," he said as he had the camera zoom in on the sleeping child's globe. "We knew the boy could link with our computer networks because he was able to access our security cameras…the data he was receiving…the numbers…he was linked to Galatea the whole time."

Michael nodded in agreement. "And Galatea was linked to Aeon and various networks around the world. The boy's link to Galatea literally gave him access to everything; I'm surprised the strain didn't kill him." The scientific curiosity at being confronted with a challenge had returned to his voice. "For his first attempt at creating a super-being, Pine has clearly surpassed himself. I wonder what the boy's purpose was."

"Well, you're the one who cracked the secrets of the artifact. It's supposed to be some sort of archive from what…the twenty-third century that somehow got thrown three-thousand years into the past before being dug up in 1938?"

"Something like that."

"Then don't you think he would have popped up somewhere in that time line?"

Michael laughed at him and shook his head. "You really don't know the full truth about the artifact, do you, Richard?" he asked.

"No, I really don't care to know."

"Which is why I trust you with this," Michael said, tapping the data chip on the desk with his fingertips. "I know that if it were up to you, you would destroy this chip. However, I'm asking you to not destroy it, but hide it somewhere in a deep dark hole where even I can't find it."

"Why?"

"Because it might be needed in the future; but it all depends on the time lines."

"Time lines?" That's when it clicked. Dicker resisted the urge to pour himself another shot of bourbon when he realized what the other man was saying. "The artifact isn't just from the future, is it, Michael?"

"No," the other man replied, a grave look on his face as he shook his head again. "It's about futures. What no one other than myself or Mercer realized is that the Oracle Artifact contained data of several time lines spanning from its discovery in 1938 to the middle of the twenty-third century. I know you don't like knowing about the future, Richard, but there are others who would seize that opportunity to mold it to their advantage. I have seen what would have happened had Project Phoenix gone ahead, but that was only one outcome. Almost all the others involved Galatea being destroyed by 'something unknown'."

"Don't you mean yourself?"

"Perhaps…or maybe it was an accident, but Galatea's destruction caused a new generations of supers…later to be dubbed 'novas' by the media…to emerge. I've seen where some of these futures lead and my role in them…and…"

For the first time, Dicker saw some something he thought he would never see on the face of Michael Donighal: fear. "Okay, let me guess; things don't turn out well for your kind."

"No." It was a simple answer, but one that had a very strong sense of finality. "It doesn't turn out well for just about everyone…and now, this boy…even you…"

"What about me?"

"Neither of you should be here…none of the timelines in the artifact mention you, the boy…my daughter...the age of heroes before the ban…none of this was mentioned."

This time, it was Dicker's turn to laugh. "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "There is something that frightens the great Doctor Primoris; fear of the unknown."

"I'm glad you find that amusing, Richard."

"I hate to break this to you, Michael, but that's normal for everyone, even 'god like' beings like yourself," Dicker said, shaking his head. "But I don't think that's your main problem. Don't let this go to your head, but one of things that made you great…and an egotistical prick…was looking at everything as some sort of equation or problem that could be solved through logic and scientific application. All these so called time lines you saw in the artifact…they're nothing but complex equations to you; equations to be worked out and solved to their logical conclusions. You obviously don't like some of these conclusions, but now it sounds like you're facing an equation with no logical solution…and that's what's getting to you, isn't it?" He took the chip off the desk and held it up. "The future will bring what it brings, Michael. It is how we deal with the shit dumped on us by the present that shapes the future and who we are, not some data in an artifact that tells us how it's supposed to be."

"You think it's that simple, Richard?"

"I know it's that simple. You go with your gut; you try second-guessing yourself and all you're going to do is give yourself health problems." Dicker paused a moment and grinned. "Or," he added, "in the case of those who are 'god-like'; an eternal ulcer that just won't go away."

That last comment actually made Michal laugh again. "That's a very brutal and crude way of simplifying the situation."

"Maybe it is," Dicker said, putting the chip in his coat pocket. "I'll drop this somewhere like you asked, but do yourself a favor, Michael. Trust your instincts and stop thinking about what you should or shouldn't do. If what you said that about me and the other various circumstances you mentioned is true and we didn't exist or happen in those time lines, that tells me that this is something new. You can't solve this equation because you are currently in it and are part of it."

"If what I do what you say and…follow my gut…that might make us adversaries."

"Well, that's the beauty of it, Michael…we never trusted each other to begin with, but at least we both knew where each of us stood. You may be a hero in this reality or you might just turn into an asshole…not that much of a stretch…but that's for you to decide, not some fancy trinket with mileage on it."

Michael chuckled as he got up out of his chair. "You always were one to cut to the heart of the matter, Richard, I think that's why I respected you, even if your are crude and ill-mannered."

"It's my right as a paranoid and bitter old man," Dicker snapped back. He then gestured to the sleeping boy on the screen. "Where, do you suppose, our young friend fits in this equation?"

Michael studied the screen for a few moments then shook his head. "I don't know…but I think it's safe to assume that he plays a role, I just don't know what it is." He then looked back at Dicker. "I'm curious, what happened to him when Galatea was destroyed."

"That was the really fucked up part," Dicker said as he had the surveillance camera pan back to its normal setting. "He simply stopped scribbling that damn date and promptly fell asleep. At first we thought he went into some sort of seizure or a coma, but the docs on staff simply confirmed he had fallen asleep, which was a good thing because I don't think that kid slept more than twelve hours since we found him on that island. In a way, it was kind of ironic; while the world burned, he slept right through it."

"The world hardly burned, Richard, at least not yet," Michael chuckled before his expression became more serious. "So what are you going to do with him?"

"I don't know. Some of our experts are suggesting we keep him detained for observation, but I'm looking at other options. It all depends what we have when he wakes up." Dicker then looked back at the other man. "So what happens now, Michael? Is there where you say something cryptic and then disappear into thin air?"

"Actually, I was simply going to walk out your front door." Michael Donighal then made his way towards the door, but stopped when he opened it and looked back over his shoulder. "I can only hope that we haven't gone down a darker path than what I've already seen." He then left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Dicker alone in his office.

Dicker sighed and shook his head again as he tapped a couple more keys and the image on the screen switched to footage taken a few days earlier where the child had scrawled something on the wall. The words sounded like a pathetic attempt of sounding biblical, but something about the writing chilled him to the bone.

 _ **And Gabriel shall rise against Michael while Heaven wars with the Falling Son...**_

And beneath the words was a crudely drawn picture of what appeared to be a demonic knight in black armor fighting a man that looked a lot like Michael Donighal...

* * *

End Notes: Okay, and this is the end of the first story. As always, comments, criticisms, and the occasional threat are welcome.


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